White Tides
by Tandakku
Summary: He had always wondered why everything around him turned to chaos. He thought that the waves would swallow him and that would be the end of it. Yet he's grabbed up and he starts a new life will the chaos follow him, or will he finally defy it?


**White Tides**

_He had always wondered why everything around him turned to chaos. He thought that the waves would swallow him and that would be the end of it. Yet he's grabbed up and he starts a new life; will the chaos follow him and hurt the ones he loves, or will he finally defy it?_

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Get Backers or any of its characters; those belong to the creator(s).

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Wind swept through the waves, throwing the already tied down sails about and tossing up waves. The waves slapped against the dilapidated, rough sides of the ship, rocking it dangerously and flooding the innermost interior. The wood cracked under the pressure, croaking ominously and several of the crew members gave up and tossed their water pails aside and fled to the deck. Very few could retain their calm enough to keep the ship afloat.

All seemed in vain, though. Lightening crackled overhead and several crew members flinched under the electric white. Never had they seen a storm so violent.

One lone soul stood unmoving in the mass chaos. Undeterred by the disarray of the ship and its occupants, he looked around, observing helplessly yet seeming the only one under control of himself. None of the others paid him mind, only seeing him for a moment under the flashes of light and moving around him in their mad dash. He gave no mind to them in turn and continued looking around as if they weren't there.

Only one thing registered in his mind. Movement. There was so much movement. He couldn't make sense of it. Blurs running around him, ghosting past him, warming him yet freezing him in their passing. Darkness everywhere, no escape from it. Darkness overhead, unmoving and low. Darkness below, swirling in a dance of joy or sadness, he couldn't tell. All he knew was that it was all distressing to him, and apparently to the others around him, for they would not stop screaming.

Another white-hot flash overhead and he finally looked up. What was that? Another flash and he was knocked off his feet. He drew his gaze down, unsure how he had come to fall, but his gaze snapped back up when another flash of white cracked above, inexplicably drawn to it. He had to watch. Needed to watch. The white flashes were watching him as he watched them. Watching, always watching.

Why were they always looking at him? Watching him?

What were they? He stood slowly, cautiously, his gaze never wavering. They never stopped. Second after second, minute after minute, the water would fly, drenching him, the wind would howl, nearly knocking him over, and the flashes of light would continue to streak the sky.

The wind howled all the louder, and a suddenly fierce wave almost tipped the ship all the way on its side. Screaming, yelling, crying for mercy flew around so long he thought it really was the end. But no, the ship slipped back upright, still willing to fight, and a tumult of waves smashed into the oncoming waves, defiant.

He shook his head, watching all of this from his renewed position on his stomach, fingers clawed into the sharp fingernails of splintered wood on the deck. The world could not be denied. The darkness couldn't be fought.

He stood once more, noting the railing so near, the rushing bodies, panicking bodies. Why panic? It all seemed a tumultuous perfection to him. A perfect painting of chaos.

An angry roar came from above, and another flash of white struck down, and suddenly everything came down at once. He saw it zigzagging down, crying death, and the mast was suddenly falling and the white was gone again. Another roar, from underneath, rose above the cries of the crew mates and water, black as a tumult of stampeding horses, crashed into the side of the ship, washing over the terrified crew mates and sending everything into a whirl of bodies and wood.

Bitter sea water forced its way into his mouth, his nostrils, stinging and sharp like ice needles, freezing him to his very core. A tumult of human bodies and wood hit him, each running him further down. Beneath hundreds of tons of icy water, he managed somehow to fight his way to the top, not yet willing to let the chaos take him under forever. He choked up water, feeling the saltiness sour his throat and sting his nostrils. His eyes watered and he looked around. Everything was blurry and he fought to stay above the waves, fought to breathe without water being forced into his mouth.

He grabbed onto something as it rolled by on a wave, and he held onto it as he was dragged under once more. He kicked his way to the surface, spitting up water furiously, holding his eyes open though unwilling to see what was happening. The long plank of wood in his grasp barely managed to keep him afloat, and he watched his crew mates struggle onto other various pieces of wood and unnamed items. He watched several more get swallowed up by the waves and not fight their way up again- tired spirits.

Finding it useless to fight against the waves, he let them take him in the direction the wind was blowing. He hoped they knew what they were doing. He tried to yell out to the others still remaining, but his cries were swallowed by angry winds and even angrier waves. Still he didn't give up- not until he couldn't even see them as dots in the distance. He didn't know whether the sea would give them a peaceful rest.

His legs continued kicking down, determined to keep him from being swept under, even as the waves pushed him in an unknown direction. His limbs grew tired and weak, even numb he knew he couldn't continue much longer.

He had almost given up when a dark shape, even darker than his surroundings, loomed up in the distance. Hope blossomed and his legs renewed their vigor. Some of the numbness warmed and he could feel the cold anew. Even as his limbs began to strain with protest once more, he continued on, knowing that if he allowed himself a single doubt he'd be swept into the darkness without hesitation.

Lights appeared, yellow and he imagined their warmth even as his limbs grew once more numb to the cold. A yearning to be in their warmth pushed him on, harder and harder until he knew he would collapse.

That one moment of doubt, one moment of a tired huff, breathless and immobile cost him and his frozen hands were ripped away from the wooden plank. Splinters tore at his palms, unnoticed in his frozen state, and water rushed into his mouth and he swallowed unwillingly, air nonexistent in his lungs.

His limbs fought against the water consuming him, but the cold oppression didn't stop and his limbs were soon immobile. His lungs burned, the only hot thing within, but no comfort came from it. His heart beat wildly, painfully, beating against the coldness around him so that it hurt and he wished it would stop.

His eyes closed finally. He let himself drift with the waves, feeling them swing around in a dance he knew was not beautiful. He felt like a puppet, and his puppeteer was the angry darkness eating him whole.

Just when he felt his last shred of humanity and hope being ripped away to forever be lost in the waves, something grabbed onto his arms. He recognized the outline of them, the only thing he could feel, as hands- stinging warmth against his frozen limbs. The waves fought with the hands, unwilling to let its prisoner go, but the hands kept pulling him up.

His head broke the surface and he began coughing up water. The salty water stung and dried his mouth and nose once more and he grimaced even as his last meal began falling to the ground.

Ground?

As he heaved, fresh salty air entering his lungs once more, he grasped at the ground beneath his body. It was ground, real, soft, safe ground. He opened his eyes a slit and watched through watery vision as grains of sand slipped through his fingers. He let a small, watery smile pass across his lips, feeling the joy course through him, warming his body. He began shivering and became aware of two small hands pressed against his back, smoothing his jacket, wavering across it in uneven circles.

He spit onto the sand, knowing that the hands were for comfort, even if they sent needles across his back and sent him into violent shivers.

Shivering was good, though, wasn't it? It meant he was still alive. It meant that even though he couldn't really feel much he was still breathing and his heart was still beating.

Even if the darkness was closing in. He felt his arms give out, and he tumbled face-first into the sand, barely managing to move his face enough so that he could breathe. He barely heard the person's screams as he closed his eyes. He didn't know whether or not the darkness meant the end or the beginning.

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TBC…

This is my first Get Backers fic. I thought my birthday was as good a day as any to start a new fic. Modeled vaguely after the song, 'Into the Ocean,' by Blue October. You'll know in the next chapter who that is in this one, if you haven't already figured it out. This is a new exploration, so I hope my characterization of the characters fits them.


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